Walking through the world as though you're about to meet the love of your life

The Great Sadness,

So in touch and deep feeling

I’ve been Longing.

It’s rough, The Sea.

It’s like that.

Tercet: Smell the clouds

Smell the clouds

We are giants on this planet

Walk gently, my friends.

black koki & ink on black paper

Tercet: Libraries and pharmacies

The clashing swords of dragonfly fights

The silences of libraries and pharmacies

On everyone & everything to lose dependency.

ballpoint pen

During the week (enduring the Weak)

I keep this blood in me

Of people I’ve not yet met

Before I speak

Just so I can go and

Fling my ego,

Oh to flingo

Jupiter around me.

-Be meek!

‘Tis recommended

But, seek!

‘t shall be remembered.

Go!

Un even chaos disequilibrium tweak

highlighter & ballpoint pen

Lying naked & spread-eagled in the Spanish sunshine

Spanish flies,

Spanish wasps and Spanish spiders,

Feathers from Spanish pigeons,

Tiny quartz pebbles from the Spanish beach

Noticed and collected, just for their difference.

I might sleepwalk down to

The young blonde German hiker’s campsite tonight

And risk the German bark of her dog just for

A brief holiday snuggle,

Wake up in her strange tent and let her

Bring me a cup of black German coffee made on

Her efficient German camp stove

Then walk away from her warm German embrace

With a new smile on my face,

And write more poetry in reaction to all this.

Because I can’t bear my own longing

And I can’t stand holding all this love inside me.

The wine is not working this time, but!

How gorgeous to slip inside this space capsule here beside me

At night and zip up and away from all mankind

How glorious to set intention for control mind

And thought to align

With ever-awakening heart,

Knowing I have in the morning,

If I choose, a view of the Spanish coastline.

So, to let go

This Sadness

For it is not mine.

Barthelona

How would one seek love in a city of so too much

Fuck me! Sit and settle first

Accounts and spending in a currency that removes one

So completely from space and time.

So gothic so trendy so ubercool and so

Cool no longer exists.

What is, is.  Artificial cityscape

Where we do our best to avoid one another,

Slip inside some invisible doorway and disappear

Somewhere upstairs forever.

Leave the light on in my dorm room for strange roommates

And keep the wine flowing so that sleep can be met

As peacefully as possible

Because past-midnight peptalks in the mind

To reassure and relax self

Is a stressful and inefficient method of enjoying a European vacation.

black koki & white ink on black paper

SPAIN - Costa Brava

In the sexiest Moment,

When the voluptuous, wild Form

Of the Human Female Creature

Breaks out into the Arms of 

The Sun,

Shines unfettered, pure for the

Whole World,

And no-One, save the Wind in the

Pine Trees and

The Rocks that shape the empty

Car Park,

Are around to witness It;

This is True Beauty:

Sublime Loneliness

(deconstruction of a feather) - ballpoint pen & black koki

The quiet street - Part 1

Hostel New York, Carrer Gignas

Pt. 1: Close enough to but far away enough from Las Ramblas

Friends are close by

Neighbours cough and weeze French – or is it Russian?

-on the balcon three metres away

And across the narrow street divide North Africans

Take refuge behind cardboard and duct tape-covered windows,

Suitcases, ladders and wooden stools piled high in their

Peeling paint corridors

Too, I see trucker-capped white boys rolling a hashish joint.

What pent-up conversations do they have perched on

Barely fifty centimetres of outdoor space, I wonder.

Scooters and bicycles and rave music continue up and down and

All around, it’s half past midnight and my revelling dorm-mate

Strangers have yet to return.

The ends of my nerves are roughened already.

I’m ok in this urban Catalonian space

Where the light of the sun barely seems to matter.

Perhaps the morning will figure in a brief silence

Before action.  Perhaps siesta mindspace should take effect

And I learn to share my presence with these other Earthly wanderers.

Carrer d’Ataulf and your calming green health pharmacy sign,

Take these huge bricks and wrought-iron heavinesses

And loosen up the what now brow of this weary and season sick

But curious dreamer for the next two eves, please.

We have quite some distance to go.

This is the quiet street.  Close enough to but far away enough from

Las Ramblas.

black koki & ink on black paper

The quiet street - Part 2

Hostel New York, Carrer Gignas

Pt. 2

Who should I be

In this city of fleeting identities

Many things to many people

But who to me, 

One singularity?

Remain the Chameleon,

Anonymous and insignificant here,

Rebel there,

Goddess and dreamer and what else?

Pray, tell.

Brought up by wolves.

I am guided.

How and who should I love?

These things, surely, will be revealed

But I find no answer in Barcelona.

I shall take my heart elsewhere.

black koki & white ink on black paper

A nightair's breath whisper

A Nightair’s breath whisper promise under sparse light of waning moon,

                Unfulfilled & antisocial, with large surface conversations

offered & reciprocated in the interim,

awaiting adherence to the call to stall further loss of precious brain connections,

Undoes treacherous voices spelling a growing older, and a disquiet in the memories

                of what has long come and gone.

                Undone.

These things, I’m promised, are immaterial.

The avocado tree in my back garden has been lopped.

                Chopped.  Irradicated.

                Removed from the stream of time.  Downed.

                Drowned in seaview psychosis.  Gone forever.

                Lying in pieces here on the lawn at 3AM.

Everything has come & gone, the slow death of this tree in pieces.

                Everything is here & now & no longer.  Here.  Now.

                Alone cold and dry, alone.                          

                All is not light.

                Hail to the Darkness tonight.

untitled (Tercet)

The Darkness came down and the Moon came out

Who the fuck am I to be miserable?

She said

ALIGNMENT - pencil on paper, 2010

Painterly poetry

Painterly poetry feed unfolding of sound & information seed beholding

A constant continuum of unfathomable flow:

It’s ok to not everything know.

We’ll get it right.  It doesn’t have to be a fight.

No shadows are cast in a world without light. 

pen & pencil on paper

What the ocean might see

The speck of a woman bends over

Sunhatted & Transvaal sandal-footed

With her little phone camera

To shoot & kill & keep

Some insignificant yet

Monumentous moment in time

On the desert-vast sandiness of your shoreline.

Fat speck of a woman,

With her three fat Ayrshires

Choking at the ends of their designer leashes

On the gargantuan freedom of your emptiness.

Lost!

-You laugh

pencil sketch 

The sound of the ocean at night

A constant crashing, a numberless number

Of everything that ever was and

Ever will be thrashing, turning and tumbling

Revolving, curling,

Foaming, mumbling, murmuring,

Voluminously involuting inside

Out, under and over and under

And under and under, ancient and always

Giant fluid plasma thunder creature, finding

Peace through continuous rapture and seizure,

Roaring gushing fight flushing glory fury,

Oh nameless Name of boundlessness and seeking

pencil sketch

untitled (Tercet)

I learned my movements from the cartoons

I was taking notes when they kissed in the movies.

I no longer wish to impose myself on the night sky when I go out for a cigarette.

sketch for a painting